Risky Opportunities
by Nighthawk-Moonshadow
Summary: A HouseCameron fic. Set after Que Sera Sera. Tritter offers Cameron an opportunity, but it's got quite a few strings attached. Will Cameron comply? How will House react?


A hazy fog had settled over the plate glass windows, obscuring the view out into the rainy, blackened New Jersey night. No light peeked through the opened shades; even the lampposts in the parking lot were not bright enough to cast a glow. The quiet murmur of the rainstorm outside echoed through the deserted halls of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Very few patients and doctors were in tonight, and they were mostly occupying other floors of the hospital.

The silence was only broken by the sweet notes of music echoing from the office of one Dr. Gregory House. A saxophone's sharp squeaks were blasting through the walls of his office, volume set at a level loud enough for one to absorb oneself in the music, but soft enough to not be heard more than a few meters down the hallway. There was no one around this area anyway right now, and if it hadn't been for the crotchety old man sitting at the swindle chair behind the messy office desk, there would be no one to hear the music.

He sat; legs arched upwards and crossed with ankles atop the table, chair leant back and arms behind his head. His cane lay astride his lap, seesawing gently back and forth unsteadily, but never falling off of his rumpled blue jeans. A deep red T-shirt covered the raising and falling of his chest, the logo of some monster truck rally emblazoned on the front. His suit jacket coat moved gently in time with his breathing, flapped open gently on his sides.

House sighed as the song ended, completing the play through of the CD. He grasped the glass of scotch next to him roughly and took a sip, dropping it back onto the table with a clink. Pulling his legs down to the floor, he winced slightly as a sharp pain cut through the damaged thigh muscle, and sat, bent forwards slightly, legs apart with cane propped between them, hands gripping the top. Mind lost in thought, he almost didn't notice when Dr. Cameron stepped into the board room next to his office.

She flicked her eyes over to him, and was met with a small nod; it was his way of saying hi. She returned it with a small smile of her own. He watched her flop her workbag on top of the table, sitting down and pulling it open. A stack of papers came out, and she began to work on them, ignoring her boss for the moment.

House was bored. He didn't feel like going home, but didn't have anything really to do around the office. They hadn't had another important case yet since the overly obese man, and that had been at least a few days ago. The team was getting antsy, and when the ducklings were antsy, there was no doubt that House was even more so.

Then there was the whole problem with Tritter and the charges he was pressing against House. He had enough to deal with without some bad ass cop trying to ruin him. The bastard had confiscated his bike, his vicodin, and now Wilson was mad at House because his friend had found out about when House forged his signature for the vicodin prescription. Wilson had blasted him afterwards, berating him for the breech of trust. House had taken it in stride, replying that Wilson should know House well enough by now.

"I guess you were right then. Everybody lies. I was stupid to think you were different," Wilson had said as he stormed out of House's office, leaving the man sunk back in his chair, a gloomy state creeping on the edges of his mind.

That had been this morning. House had stayed in his office most of the day, only leaving for a few spare hours that Cuddy dragged him out to do clinic duty. His ducklings had their own tasks as well. Chase was stuck in the maternity ward again, Foreman was on clinic duty, and Cameron was knee deep in paperwork. She hadn't been doing it in the board room, leaving House to wonder where she'd been all this time.

He sprung up quietly, leaning heavily on his cane, and limped through the door into the other room, making Cameron look up. "Get anything meaningful done today Dr. House?" she asked, absentmindedly thumbing a page in front of her.

He gave a shrug and walked over to the coffee pot. "Oh, you know, the usual work. Annoying Cuddy and Wilson, prescribing placebos for idiot patients, planning the downfall of my enemies." He flipped open the pot's top and cursed. "Damnit, I thought we had some left in here."

He heard movement behind him, and Cameron brushed past him, pushing him gently out of the way. In all of five minutes she had set up the pot to brew, and was pulling his red mug and her blue one out of the cabinet. He watched her silently, her movements soft and reflective. Something was on her mind.

"Since when do you willingly make coffee for me at eleven thirty at night?" he asked, leaning back against the window. She looked up, gave a little smile, and looked back down to pour the coffee.

"Just thought you might like some kindness. You've been having a rough week." She pressed his mug into his free hand and took her own, sipping it quietly and looking up at him with an earnest expression.

He frowned slightly, perturbed by her cheery attitude. "I don't need a pity party Cameron. You should be berating me for being a moron and getting caught up in all of this crap, not treating me like a lost puppy. Be like Cuddy! Wait, that's a scary thought. Scratch that. I don't want a second Cuddy on my back." He shrugged past her and back into his office, before calling back to her. "Of course, if this is a clever ploy to get me to go home so I don't have to deal with you, it's working!"

She smiled and watched him pack up his things. Whether he admitted it or not, House was stressed, and could use a touch of kindness towards him. She had tried not to show the extent of how she worried about him, and had kept away most of the day so as to keep him off of the mind. But seeing him again brought back the thoughts she'd been having. These criminal charges were not good for his career or for his attitude. He had been crankier than usual lately, and she hadn't seen him brooding this much since Stacey left.

He finished the last of his coffee and plopped the mug on the desk. Picking up the last of his things, he gave a quick wave and headed out the door. Cameron sighed. _He couldn't spare the effort to bring the damned cup back over?_ She got up again and went to get the mug to clean.

She'd just turned around, mug in hand, when she saw the hallway door open. Officer Tritter stepped in, donned in his usual leather jacket and button up shirt. He smiled politely with as warm of an expression as his sallowed face could muster. "Dr. Cameron, nice to see you."

"House just left" she said, turning back to the desk and fumbling with some papers. She did not want to talk to Tritter. If House hated him, it was nothing compared to how much Cameron loathed him for making the lives of House and everyone around him hell. She wanted to kick him out the door, but it wasn't her office, and she doubted she could make him do anything. "If you hurry up you can catch him."

"Actually," Tritter said, stepping forwards, "I was hoping to talk to you. Do you have a moment?"

Cameron glared down at the desk in front of her. _What does he want?_ She shifted the glare on her face into an expression of calmness, but kept a hint of annoyance in her eyes so he would know she wasn't pleased. She turned to face him. "I guess. What do you need?" _You NEED to get the hell out of our lives._

"I know this situation with Dr. House has you concerned. We both know he's too stubborn to give in and admit guilt for his crimes. I really wish he was more reasonable." Tritter sighed. "However, I think you are a more reasonable person. You understand the consequences of House's actions, and how bad this could all be for him. He could get fines, jail time, even lose his job. I'm sure you don't want that."

Cameron looked down and shook her head. She'd tried not to think about what could happen to House if he did badly at trial. He wouldn't be helped by his attitude; he'd probably rant at the judge the entire time and get himself a worse sentence than if he'd just kept his mouth shut. Cameron definitely didn't want that.

"I can help him, you know."

Cameron looked up, surprised. Tritter's expression had changed to a soft smile. Cameron had a feeling that it was a put on, but she was still shocked at his comment. "How?"

"Well, actually, you can do something to help him. I know he means enough to you for you to want to help him out. You want to help him, don't you?"

Cameron nodded slowly. _What is he thinking?_

"Well, we can trade. If you give me something, I'll give you something. That seems fair, doesn't it? And we'll trade equally."

"What do I have that you want?"

"One night. With me, tonight. We'll have a little fun, get some beer, go to my house, and enjoy ourselves. And if you give me what you want, I'll drop some of the charges."

"What!" Cameron's brain flooded with the realization of what Tritter was asking. "Are you insane? I'm not prostituting myself out to you!"

"Don't think of it as prostitution. Think of it as helping out a friend. I thought you wanted to help House."

"Not by whoring myself out to you!" shouted Cameron. Tritter took a few strides forward, and she backed up against the desk.

"Of course, this could work the other way around. If you're not helping me, I'm not helping you. Which means I'm hurting you. Now, what would be hurting you? Maybe I investigate House a little further, dig deeper, find some skeletons that could help tip the judge, or move some things around to create some new skeletons. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Cameron looked down, glaring. "You wouldn't dare."

He lifted her chin up to face him. "I can make his life a living hell."

Cameron's moral compass was on hyper drive. She quietly contemplated Tritter's proposal and threats. She knew what House would tell her to do. _Tell him to go fuck himself,_ he would shout at her But she wasn't House. House was too stubborn to listen to threats or opportunities. And she was making this decision for his wellbeing. She took that as a sign that she had to make the best choice for him, not herself. Cameron cared too much at this point to make what most would call the rational decision. _The bastard doesn't even show he cares, and you're willing to put out to help him?, _the little voice in her mind shouted.

_I can't just let him be hurt._ "Fine," she said, sighing. "Let me pack up."

She gathered her things together. Picking up the empty coffee mugs, she went over to the sink and washed them. She held the red mug for a moment afterwards, tracing her finger along its edge softly. _You'd better appreciate this, you bastard._

Then they left together, Tritter's hand cupped possessively on Cameron's back. Cameron almost pulled away, but she was afraid that one wrong move would send the deal flying out the window.

/\/\/\

House got in around ten the next morning. He'd drunk a lot the night before, and a hangover beat into his brain. He was hoping for a nice cup of coffee to wake him and subside the pounding. But when he got there, he only found Chase and Foreman, and an empty coffee pot.

"Where's the estrogen in the room?" he asked, tossing his bag down and limping over to the whiteboard. Over the past few days, since no cases had been given, it was quickly turning into a collage of art. Chase had little stick figure comics, Cameron drew on decorative hearts and stars, and Foreman was working on a very nice portrait of Tritter with devil horns. House liked that one the best of all. He picked up the marker and began doodling.

"She hasn't come in yet" Foreman mumbled up from his book. "We called her cell phone, but she didn't pick up."

"Cuddy's gonna give her hell" piped in Chase. "She's supposed to be on clinic duty for the next four hours."

"That's not what I'm interested in. Do either of you know how to make a good pot of coffee?" They both shrugged their heads. "Damn. That should've been a requirement when I hired you. 'Must be able to operate coffee pot.' What good are you to me without that skill?"

Foreman rolled his eyes and turned to face House. "Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say you hired us for our abilities in diagnosing patients and dealing with you, not for having the skills of a Starbucks clerk."

"Maybe I should've hired one of those guys then. A latte is more important to me at this point than all the lock picking and car thieving abilities you've got in that head of yours."

"Hey! That wa-"

"I'll do it." Cameron walked through the doors, interrupting the flaring argument and finally making an appearance. Her face was leant down, her bangs obscuring her eyes, but. "Sorry I'm late. Car troubles."

They watched her move over to the coffee pot and start to prepare the mix. House raised an eyebrow and moved to the counter, leaning on it to face her. "Your car seems to be breaking down a lot lately. Don't you think it's time that you got a new one?" She didn't answer, just shrugged her shoulders and continued brewing.

"Oh, I know what's going on," said Chase, grinning slightly. "Cameron had a fun time last night. So who was it, the nurse from Pediatrics?"

Cameron spun around, her eyes glaring daggers. Her expression caused both Foreman and Chase to jump, eyes widened in shock. House just raised an eyebrow. "Don't talk about things you don't know about" she hissed, slamming the top of the coffee pot on. She grabbed House's mug out of the cabinet, shoved it into his hands, and then stormed out.

The room was quiet for a few moments. None of the three men had any idea of what the hell was going on. Foreman was the first to speak.

"How could you know she had sex Chase?"

Chas shrugged, finally coming out of the shock. "As far as I know, I'm the only one here who knows her mood after sex." He got up, gathering his things. "Anyway, I have to go check on some infants. You should go talk to her House. Your usual brand of sarcasm seems to work on her for some reason." He left.

Foreman turned to House. "I think he's right man. Something's obviously up, and I'm not good at figuring out the various moods of Cameron. You've got nothing to do anyways, unless you want Cuddy to drag you off for more clinic duty." He chuckled when House shivered at the thought. "Exactly." He turned back to the things he was working on.

House stood and left the room, limping down the hall at a steady gait. _Why should I do this? It's probably just hormones. God knows I've dealt with Stacy's bad moods enough to know when to avoid their womanly problems._ But Cameron was different. House had never been able to keep track of her monthly mood cycles, unlike Cuddy, who he could read like a book. He supposed that it was because all of her moods seemed to blend together into the annoying morality complex she had. He could never tell if she was crying over a patient because it meant something, or because her estrogen level was raging.

House stopped at the end of the hall. He could either ask the nurses at the desk where Cameron had gone, or could take the elevator down and surprise Cuddy with the offer to do clinic duty instead. He looked left, then right, trying to decide. He finally sighed and walked over to the desk. The nurse there pointed him in Cameron's direction, and he took off down the hall.

He'd turned into a dead end hallway, meaning that she had to be in one of the rooms ahead. Luckily for House, it wasn't that hard to figure out where she'd gone. He could hear sniffling noises coming from the locker room. Quietly walking over, he peeked through the door to see her sitting on the bench, back to him, head down and hands gripping the sides.

The scene reminded him of when he found her crying in the chapel not too long ago. He hadn't been able to think of what to say then, except to tell her he was proud. He'd wanted to express more, but couldn't put it into words.

Edging the cane into the crack of the door, he pushed it open and limped in. If she heard him, she made no movement to leave. He walked around the bench and sat down next to her, stretching out his legs and sitting back slightly. "So am I going to have to do this from now on every time you have your feminine problems?"

If she had moved to smack him for the comment, it would've meant that she was probably only hormonal. But she said and did nothing, only gripped the bench slightly harder, trying to push back her tears. He sighed. "So it's something serious. Don't tell me they ran out of the sour cream and onion chips in the cafeteria again" he said, trying to lighten the mood and making one last attempt to turn the problem into something frivolous.

"I did something" she said, wiping her eyes. "And I think you'll hate me for it."

House raised an eyebrow. "Hating you is like hating a kitten. It can't help it when it pisses all over your carpet, and you forgive it anyways."

"House!" she cried, exasperated. "I'm serious!" She turned to look at him. He now saw her face clearly. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there was a hickey on her neck and a scratch on her chin.

"You really did get lucky, didn't you?" he said. He subconsciously reached up a hand to place a few fingers on her scratch, and when he realized what he was doing, he pulled his hand back down again.

"Neither of us got anything out of what I did."

"Neither?" House raised an eyebrow. "As in I missed out on something too? So you didn't tape it? Damn, I was hoping-"

"I slept with Tritter!" she shouted finally. "I had sex with him!"

The words hit House like a brick wall. He took a few seconds to process the information, because his brain could not recover from the shock for a while. He stared at her, eyes wide, jaw unhinged and slightly lowered in shock. She looked down, new tears bursting forth. "I'm so sorry," she cried, putting her face in her hands.

House felt betrayed. She could've slept with anyone else in the world, and he would've forgiven her. _Wait, what does she have to apologize for? It's not like you own her. She's her own woman._ But Tritter was the enemy, and she'd gone over to the other side. She had known everything about this man and still ended up in his bed. _How could she be so stupid?_

House stared at the bench for a while. Then he stood, leaning on his cane in front of her. She looked up at him, eyes even puffier now.

"I'm… disappointed." She could catch sparkles of pain and sadness dancing in his eyes.

He turned and started to walk out. "House!" she said once more. He stopped, back still turned. "I slept with him because he said that if I did, he'd drop some of your charges, and if I didn't, he'd find a way to make you suffer more."

"And did he?"

"I didn't let him kiss me or do anything but the basic act, and he said to me afterwards that I was pathetic and was holding back, and he was only going to drop the speeding ticket. I told him that it wasn't fair, but he told me to take what he gave me or he wouldn't give me anything at all. He kicked me out of his apartment right after we'd done it." She hung her head in shame.

House stood there for a few minutes, not talking. There was a welling pain in his chest, his leg was on fire, and his mind was spinning. He had nothing to say to her. She was the one to speak again, looking up with desperation in her eyes.

"I just didn't want him to hurt you."

House turned his head back to look at her. "Well, you failed." He turned and walked out.

Cameron dissolved back into tears.

/\/\/\

Cuddy had never seen House so dedicated to doing clinic duty. He had basically refused to leave the area of the hospital for the last four hours, and it was only now that Cuddy dragged him to her office.

"Ok, what are you up to? Are you planning something? You never willingly do clinic duty."

"Can't a doctor want to be nice to his boss once in a while?" He put on an innocent expression, but Cuddy read him easily.

"You're never nice."

"People can change Cuddy."

"No they can't. Especially not you House. Now out with it!"

"Fine. If you must know, I had a horrible three way with Wilson and Chase last night, and I'm avoiding my floor to not have to discuss it. Happy?"

Cuddy sighed. "Fine, go back to the clinic. But if I catch you doing something, your ass is mine."

"Oh, you tease" he said, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. "You know my ass is always yours." She just rolled her eyes at him and turned to get something off a bookshelf.

"Cuddy, have you seen Cameron today?"

Cuddy turned, surprised at the question. She answered him while looking down at some papers on her desk. "Actually, yes. She came in late, and then left about an hour ago. She said she wasn't feeling well and needed a break for today. But Foreman came in with her and told me afterwards that he and Chase had found her crying in the locker room… did you do something to her House?" She looked back up to see where he was.

She never got the question answered. He had left before she finished, disappearing down the hallway.

/\/\/\

Cameron had been moping around her apartment since she'd gotten home. The TV had been blaring as she lay on the couch, but she wasn't concentrating on that, she was lost in her own thoughts.

She thought he hated her. She had been so stupid, but the threats had seemed so real the night before. Tritter had some type of domineering aura about him, and his cold eyes staring into her had caused her to crumble under him. However, that was nothing compared to the pain she'd seen in House's eyes today, and she wished that she could do something to take back her mistake. The last time she'd seen that pain in his eyes was when he'd told Stacy to leave. His pain had torn her apart then, and was doing the same now.

She knew she had betrayed him. She'd betrayed herself too. She knew that she loved him, and that love of him had made her take a stupid risk to stop something that probably wouldn't even happen. _You really are naive,_ she thought to herself, pounding a fist into one of the couch pillows. Of all the mistakes she'd made in her life, Cameron felt like this one was the most destructive.

/\/\/\

He'd left work at his check out time for once, surprising most everyone around him. By the time he'd gotten home, the rain that had been falling since last night had increased dramatically. Without Wilson or his bike, he'd been forced to call a taxi. However, it wasn't so bad, as he wasn't soaked by the time he got home, which he would've been if on the back of a motorcycle.

He dropped his bag on the ground as soon as he got in and limped over to the couch, plopping down with a sigh. The bottle of gin from the night before was still perched on the coffee table, and he grasped it, popping off the top and not bothering with a glass. He wanted to drown out the feelings he was having.

_I'm pissed yeah, but why is this so painful? This doesn't make sense. I've got a right to be angry, but why did my stomach sink and writhe so much when I heard the news? It's like I'm jealous…_

He shook his head to himself. _You're going crazy Greg. Pull it together._

_She probably thinks I hate her,_ he thought, taking another sip of the gin. _I don't hate her; I just thought she was smarter than that. And why would she take that risk, just for me? Even Wilson wouldn't do that for me, though I doubt Tritter is looking for that sort of payoff._

House looked around his empty apartment. It felt cold and distant. He needed company, and had a feeling someone else was needing the same. _It couldn't hurt,_ said the voice in his head. He sighed and got up, not bothering to change his outfit. He flicked open the shades and was surprised to see the taxi still waiting, the driver probably counting his cash or something. After running out and asking the driver to wait to take him somewhere else, he ran back inside and grabbed a coat. There was something in the pocket. He reached in, felt it with his fingers, then shrugged and walked out, not bothering to take the time to take it out.

/\/\/\

There was a knock on Cameron's door later that night. She almost dropped the spoon she held, though the carton of chocolate chip ice cream stayed firmly planted in her lap. Swallowing the bite of ice cream, she called out, "Coming!" before putting the carton down and getting up.

She opened the door to find a soaked House standing in her doorway. "Got a towel?" he asked, giving her a slight grin. She returned it with the tiniest of smiles and stepped aside so he could come in. She went to get a towel as he pulled his soggy coat off and hung it on the coat rack. The towel she returned with went to his hair, drying it off enough for it to resemble its normal dishevelment. "Damn taxi driver wouldn't take me a block father when he found out what cash I had on hand. I had to walk at least five blocks."

She nodded silently and went towards the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" she called behind her. He nodded and followed her, leaning up against a counter in the kitchen. He watched her work for a few minutes.

"So am I going to have to hire a new immunologist tomorrow? I'd hate to lose my office artwork; I was planning on installing a pedestal for you too…"

"Greg, please!" She slammed her hands on the counter. "This is hard enough as it is."

_Did she just call me Greg?_, he thought to himself, watching her shake and shiver against the counter.

"Fine, we're on a first name basis? Allison, I'm mad, but technically I can't fire you for sleeping with someone. Though you did happen to pick the biggest prick on the planet."

"I didn't do it for pleasure. I hated myself afterwards and still do."

"Then why would you do something so stupid? God, I'm going to lose my bet with Wilson now. We were going to do IQ tests on you, Foreman and Chase to see which one of you should've failed medical school but didn't because they were pretty. I had my money on Chase."

"Why can't you be serious for once!" she cried, spinning to face him. "You should hate me and yet you're coming over here to do what, cheer me up? I don't get you at all." She sighed and hung her head.

He slowly pulled up off the counter and walked over to her, standing in front of her. He gripped her shoulders gently and stared down with a firm face. "Look at me."

She slowly lifted her head up. "You did hurt me, but Tritter hurt me more by hurting you. I'm more pissed that you got caught in the middle of this crap than anything else. He used your caring nature against me, and…" he gave a sigh, "no one should ever be able to do that. It's one of your annoying, yet likeable qualities to be caring, and no one should be allowed to exploit that."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "You really mean that?"

"No, this was all for nothing, everything I've said is a lie, I hate you. Do you want to hear that? Will that satisfy your need to feel guilty about every goddamned thing on the planet?"

She gave a light chuckle. "I do get too emotional sometimes, don't I?"

"You realize this now? Do you ever listen to yourself? 'The poor little patient, I must rescue them from every personal problem they've ever had, otherwise I'll cry myself to sleep at night!'" This caused her to grin widely, though she tried to suppress it.

He moved away and walked over to the cabinets. Opening a few, he finally found the glasses, and was surprised to find identical red and blue mugs to the ones they had at work inside. "Either you and the hospital staff have the same taste in kitchenware, or you planned this" he said, holding up the mugs.

She took them from him and winked. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." The coffee was done, and she poured the steaming liquid into the cups. She pressed the blue one into his hand. "The red mug is for the boss, and in this apartment, that's me." He shook his head and hid his grin by taking a swig of the liquid.

There was a knock at her front door again. She quizzically peered out of the kitchen door, and then turned back to House. "Hold on a second" she said, putting her mug down and leaving him in the kitchen.

He had leaned back against the refrigerator and was about to take another sip when he heard a voice that cut through the apartment.

"I can give you a second chance, you know."

Tritter. House's fists clamped together in anger. Quietly, he put the mug down on the counter and limped over, hiding behind a wall so that he wouldn't be seen. Suddenly a light clicked on in his mind, and he reached into his pants pocket, where he'd put the item that had previously been in his coat. He pressed a button on it, then took it out and held it towards where Cameron and Tritter were speaking.

"I don't want your second chance."

"I'll drop the drug charges this time; tell them that the prescriptions were real after all." _So he already figured that out_, House thought, smiling grimly.

"You could erase his entire record and I still wouldn't sleep with you again."

"You know what I can do if you don't."

"Go ahead and try. House knows how to make people's lives a living hell too. Maybe he'll shove a thermometer so far up your ass next time that you won't be able to get it out." House had to catch himself from snorting at that.

"I'm not inclined to being refused" he said, taking a step forwards. She stepped back slightly, but kept her face firm.

"You can yell and threaten all you want. You're just a sad and lonely man who wants a fuck buddy, so you're using your job to take advantage of that. I hope that not all cops are as crooked as you. Now get the hell out."

House peered around the corner slightly to see what was going on. Tritter had his back towards House, and Cameron was opposite, diagonally facing the hiding doctor. He gave her a reassuring wink, but she didn't return it, she was too concentrated on staring down Tritter.

The man finally relented. "Fine, your loss." He turned to leave. Suddenly, he turned towards her and pulled his arm back, sending it towards her face. She had no time to react, and the flat of his hand caught her on the cheek, sending her spilling backwards onto the floor. "Bitch," he hissed.

House moved even faster than Tritter did. In a millisecond he leapt from behind the wall, rushed over and sent his fist flying into the side of Tritter's head. The man stumbled back and fell through the doorway onto the hall carpet. House stood in front of him, cane gripped between his fists, knuckles whitened from gripping it hard in anger. "Get the fuck out of here" he growled, taking a step towards Tritter. The cop shuffled backwards, quickly jumping to his feet. He gave House one last glare before turning and darting down the hall and into the stairwell.

House didn't go after him. Instead he turned back to where Cameron lay, looking up at him with amazement. "Come on, off the floor" he said, reaching down a hand. He helped her to her feet and steadied her before releasing her. "That was a fucking cowardly move. He's fine at being the bully until a bigger one comes against him."

There was a red bruise forming on Cameron's cheek, and adding to the hickey and scratch, she was looking pretty beat up. "Thanks" she said, looking up at him. "He looked about ready to kill me."

"He's going to really want to kill me after I show the judge this" House said, pulling the tape recorder out of his pocket with a kind of sadistic glee. "Got most of the conversation on tape. I think the judge will find Tritter's deal making habits quite interesting. Can you say 'acquittal'?"

Cameron's face lit up at the sight of the tape recorder. "That was brilliant Greg!" she said, launching forwards and clasping onto him in a hug. He stepped back slightly, startled, but let her stay like that for a while. She was warm, and he enjoyed the feeling she was giving him.

"Just don't put anything on that bruise for now" he said when she had finally released him. "We need to get pictures for evidence. Besides, it matches everything else on your face."

She gave him a little nod, then walked back into the kitchen and returned with their coffee cups and a spoon and two bowls. "Want some ice cream?" she asked. "It's probably too melted now on top to freeze back to normal again, so we'll have to eat that part off."

"You've known me too long to not know the answer to that."

"Heh, fine." She sat down on the couch, and he joined her. "One scoop or two?"

"Again, you know already."

"Three it is" she said, picking up the carton. She made up the bowls, then handed him his. He started into it as she walked back to the kitchen and put the now half-empty box in the freezer. Then she returned to the couch.

They ate in silence. Cameron had opted for a single scoop, but House ate much faster than she did, meaning that they finished about the same time. "I've just got one question" Cameron asked, putting down her bowl. House ate his last bite and looked up as he put his bowl on the table, awaiting her next sentence.

"Why do you care so much about if I get hurt? You don't care about anybody, and even if you do, you don't let it be seen. Back in the locker room… I could see you hurting when I'd told you what I'd done. The only time I've ever seen you hurting like that was when Stacy left."

House sat for a moment, cane propped between his legs and hands gripping the top of it. He stared down in front of him, thinking of how to respond.

"House?"

"I think… if I knew myself, I still wouldn't be able to tell you." He looked up at her with a solid expression, unrevealing of emotion to the average person, but Cameron could read it completely. She stared back with the same expression. It was one of uncertainty, but realization at the same time.

Cameron was the first to make a move. She leaned forwards on the palms of her hands slowly, stretching upwards to reach his face, and brushed their lips together. Pulling back, she found the same expression that he'd had before. Yet there was a different feeling settling over the room, of which made her heart leap nervously. She lowered he eyes, feeling that if she looked into his, they would bore into her soul.

She saw his arms come forwards, hands wrapping around her waist and drawing her closer to him. She was pressed against him, felt his musky breath on her face. Looking up, the expression was still unchanged.

"…Greg?"

She'd said the magic word. He leaned downwards, drawing her into an impassioned kiss that left her breathless as he pulled away. She closed her eyes and her eyelids stayed like that, the darkness allowing her to soak in every feeling and sound and emotion around her. She leaned forwards slightly and felt his stubble brush up against her cheek, scratchy but pleasant.

"Allison?"

She opened her eyes. Finally his expression had changed. His eyes were concerned at her silence. She gave him a slight smile, indicating her pleasure at the situation. He smiled back and leaned in for another kiss, and then another. She pressed herself into him, the warmth of his body flowing into her. She let out a little moan as his mouth moved from hers and began kissing down her neck slowly.

She gripped his shirt and pulled him forwards, flopping onto her back, legs straightened out from under her, with him bent over her. His arms went behind her torso, and his hands drew her head up to meet his as the kissing continued. One of his hands continued holding up her head, while the other snaked down and found its way under her shirt, rubbing the soft skin of her back slowly.

"That hickey," he gasped, pulling up for a moment, "is going to be mine." He dropped his head to her neck and nibbled and sucked over the area where they hickey was. She cried out, the spot was tender, and little pins of pain lanced through it. When he pulled away, the bump was larger and redder. "Better" he said, turning back to her face and drawing her into a kiss again. She knew that she'd never be able to hide the mark now, but didn't really care anymore.

She wound her hands into the small space between their chests and through the spaces between his shirt buttons. Stroking his hair covered chest, she ran her hands downwards, stopping just above his waistline and eliciting a groan from him. She pulled her hands back, satisfied, and wrapped them around his neck.

They continued for a few minutes, and then pulled away, panting softly in unison. House sat up, pulling her with him. He leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. She settled her face against his chest as he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"So you don't hate me?"

House looked down at her to find her grinning up at him. He snorted, then laughed out loud, unable to contain himself. He didn't know if it was the giddiness emanating from the depths of his chest that cause such an outburst of emotion, but he didn't mind it so much. "Why don't I show you how much I don't hate you?"

"Not tonight" she said, snuggling up closer against him. "That particular type of fun has still got a bad taste in my mouth from Tritter." He nodded understandingly. "This is just fine for now."

House would never admit it, but he agreed.


End file.
